


your echo (through these walls)

by sehnsvcht



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, mystery meeting... of sorts, that's about as much as i can tell you, yixing sings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehnsvcht/pseuds/sehnsvcht
Summary: Baekhyun finds it quite funny how the first thing he discovers about his new neighbor is his voice from the other side of his bedroom wall—it’s like doing things backwards in a way; but it’s intriguing and only makes him listen even more intently, and maybe fall for him, along the way.





	your echo (through these walls)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt #30.
> 
> A thousand thanks to S for the constant help and unrelenting support, and thanks to the mods for being suuuper nice! To the prompter: I hope I've done your prompt justice! Your idea was just too good for me not to write it, and I really do hope I did a good job. And finally, to anyone reading this: if you have a soft spot for French(-Canadian) music, listen to [this song](https://saratoga.bandcamp.com/track/fleur) as it has inspired a bunch of this story (especially the end!). It's not so much the lyrics as the story behind the song and the way it sounds that was source of inspiration, honestly. Enjoy!

The first time it happens, it’s completely by surprise. An impromptu performance, in the best ways, if Baekhyun dares to think so.

He’s sitting on his bed, sheets at his feet and laptop against his thighs, typing frantically against the keys of his computer in hopes that whatever garbage he’s putting down on paper (or rather, in his text document staring back at him from his screen) makes any sense at all. Psychology isn’t that hard, right? Baekhyun is good at observing people, at picking up their cues and figuring out their next move, or just how they might behave on a good day or another. He just has to find scientific proof to prove that whatever nonsense his brain spurts actually _works_. He’s done that for years, now, so one more essay shouldn’t be daunting, no?

And so he types and types more than he writes, still in his pajamas from forever ago (this morning) and too-sweet coffee swimming in his mug sitting on his bedside table. (The mug has left a brown circle stain on the white glass of his bedside table, and maybe Baekhyun hates himself just a little for being so careless. Minseok would throw a fit, if he happened to see the state of his room, at the moment.)

He must make quite the picture himself, at the moment, brown hair falling in soft spikes up and around his face, tired eyes drooping from staring at his screen for too long, and probably one or ten coffee stains and bread crumbs hidden between the folds of his shirt. Baekhyun’s life as a graduate student hasn’t changed much from his early years in university, if he’s honest.

It’s when he decides to take a short break, to stretch his tired limbs and let his eyes rest a little, that he notices the soft voice that rings through the room—except, it doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere, too muted and muffled to be coming from Baekhyun’s room.

He still has his hands high up in the air, fingers interlaced and pulling high above him, frozen in place as he tries to figure out the source of the voice. It’s slightly high in tone, a bit strained on the edges, but nothing short of beautiful nonetheless, and… well. Baekhyun is enraptured, if not a little curious. Where is that voice coming from?

He lowers his arms, pauses the music coming from his laptop speakers. Like this, the voice sounds clearer, cutting through the silence of Baekhyun’s room and enveloping it whole. It’s only when Baekhyun unconsciously presses himself closer to the bedroom wall behind him that it clicks in his head—the voice comes from the _other side_ of the wall, where his new neighbor has moved in only days prior.

Baekhyun smiles in surprise. So the new guy is a singer, then? Whether he does it professionally or just for fun, Baekhyun can’t argue that he has quite the voice—loud and clear, though a bit breathy at times. His timbre is unique and melodious, and maybe Baekhyun is considering extending his break time just so he can sit and listen some more. He can also pick up the gentle strum of a guitar, a steady companion to the man’s voice, singing another melody of its own.

It’s hard to paint a picture of the guy, since Baekhyun still hasn’t properly met him—he was in class when the moving happened, and aside from a housewarming gift left at the foot of his front door when he was away on a shift at the library, Baekhyun hasn’t had much of an interaction with his new neighbor—hell, he doesn’t even know what he _looks_ like. He finds it quite funny, how his voice gets to be the first thing he discovers about the guy, rather than his looks or attitude. It’s like doing things backwards in a way, but it’s intriguing and only makes him listen even more intently, detailing the man’s voice.

Baekhyun picks up his now-cold coffee, takes a tiny, tiny sip, still listening. He can’t make out the words, from this side of the wall—or maybe the man is singing in another language, Baekhyun thinks belatedly. Despite that, though, he can feel the peace of the song, seeping through the thin wall behind him and through his bones, and Baekhyun could get used to this, having lullabies sung to him through the walls of his bedroom every night. He smiles at how silly the thought is, but still considers it for another moment.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

Feeling a little more invigorated than he did moments before, Baekhyun starts typing at his keyboard again, and he almost feels like he’s _writing_ something rather than vomiting words with little to no sense. The soundtrack of his neighbor’s voice follows him through, sometimes stopping to try out another chord, sometimes to rest his voice, humming so softly Baekhyun can barely hear it at times.

It’s when, moments later, Baekhyun catches himself humming along to the music, that the music stops.

At first, Baekhyun barely notices—with the passing minutes slowly turning into hours, it’s like his brain subconsciously matched his voice with the melody resounding through the walls, levelled at a slightly lower pitch than the rest, harmonizing in a way. It’s only a few instants after the music stops, when he realizes his voice isn’t singing along to _anything at all_ , that he stops too, dumbfounded.

For a good minute, only silence reigns, as though time has stopped along with the music, and Baekhyun is waiting for it to tick again, to pass again. His breaths are barely making any noise either, and the cursor of his mouse on his screen is blinking right back at him slowly, on and off, unmoving.

Then, the sound of a soft guitar strum rings out again through the walls, and Baekhyun’s heart stops in turn. He doesn’t know why he suddenly cares so much about… about whatever this is.

It’s exciting, definitely.

“Hello?” a voice calls— _the_ voice, the same that was singing only minutes ago, alongside Baekhyun, through his bedroom walls, startling him.

It’s louder now, speaking, than it was when singing. It’s less measured too, more careless, but there’s still a melodic aspect to it that Baekhyun can’t quite place. He likes it, though—so much that he almost forgets the voice was addressing him, and he still hasn’t replied.

“Uh—hi,” Baekhyun hastens to say, a little louder. “Good evening. Sorry if I disturbed you, um. With my singing. I didn’t want to interrupt your performance.”

Now that he says it out loud, Baekhyun realizes just how _odd_ the situation is—who starts harmonizing with their brand new, seemingly musician neighbor, out of the blue on a Thursday evening through their too thin walls? Some might see it as invasion of privacy. Some might see it as quite surreal, very unlikely, even absolutely ridiculous. Baekhyun, truly, only sees it as quite an interesting story to retell, or maybe a secret to keep, for himself and whoever finds themselves on the other side of his bedroom wall. But there’s no way to tell his thoughts are shared with his spontaneous companion, and—

“Oh, no, no,” the man replies, and it sounds like he’s smiling—or even laughing—as he speaks. Baekhyun smiles back on instinct. What a lovely, crystalline laugh. “Please, you were doing great. I should be the one apologizing, you know, with all the noise I must have been making. I didn’t know the walls were so thin around here.”

“Oh, believe me, they _are_ ,” Baekhyun retorts without thinking it through. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff I have heard on a daily basis sometimes, in this place. But you’ll grow used to it, like we all did.”

“I’ll make sure to be quiet, then, I’m sorry,” the stranger says, tone lower, like he’s humming. But his words aren’t what Baekhyun wants to hear—far from it. It’s probably reckless, or ridiculously forward, but—

“No, no, I mean—please keep on singing,” he says, mustering all the sincerity he can through his words. Hopefully, the man on the other side of the wall can hear him. “I enjoyed it, actually. A lot. You have a nice voice.”

“You do, too,” the man says, before he pauses. For another moment, only silence fills the space, and Baekhyun almost speaks again but the man beats him to it. “If I may, can I have your name?”

Baekhyun almost snorts. “I’m Byun Baekhyun,” he introduces himself simply. “Just Baekhyun is fine, though. You don’t need to talk to me all fancy like that, you know. I’m only twenty-four.” Suddenly, he wonders how old is his new friend. What if he’s an old man? Not that Baekhyun was hoping for _anything_ —definitely not; now that would be absolutely and completely ridiculous—but he remains curious nonetheless.

A new friend is always nice.

“Nice to meet you, Baekhyun—I mean, sort of meet you anyway,” the man laughs—what a _lovely_ laugh, Baekhyun thinks once more—before he speaks again. “My name’s Yixing. Zhang Yixing. And I’m twenty-five. Not that’s important, but.”

This man, this Zhang Yixing, might have suddenly become Baekhyun’s new favourite person. Maybe. “It’s nice meeting you too, Yixing.”

“Do you mind if I play a bit more?” Yixing doesn’t waste time asking. “You can choose to sing along or not, you know. I don’t mind. But I definitely need to practice this song for tomorrow, so…”

Yixing needs practice? What for? Baekhyun is curious, atrociously curious, but Yixing’s words made it seem like he would appreciate all the time he might get to perfect his performance, so Baekhyun doesn’t waste time trying to coerce details from him. “Yeah, sure, go ahead. I’ll just go back to writing this essay, then.”

“Thank you.” Another gentle guitar strum, before Yixing says, “Good luck, Baekhyun!”

“You too, Yixing.”

And then, Yixing starts playing again, starts singing again, and Baekhyun doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the night—no, Yixing goes back to being Baekhyun’s soundtrack man, and Baekhyun sometimes lets his own voice hum along to the unknown melody, just because he feels like it. He completes his essay about an hour later, and it’s midnight when he finally shuts down his laptop, sliding under his covers after getting ready for bed.

Baekhyun falls asleep to the soft guitar notes and sung words from the other side of the wall, muffled but still so clear in his head.

***

Minseok is over for the weekend, which means Baekhyun has to deal with his pouty lips turned into a frown and his perfect eyebrows drawn together in disgust at the first sight of his bedroom chaos, on Saturday morning.

“You _need_ to clean your room, Baekhyun.”

“Nice to see you too, you know,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, dragging Minseok out of his room—because of course Minseok made it his mission to inspect every room of his apartment before actually sitting down and, you know, having a conversation, catching up, the sort of thing normal people do.

“Sometimes, I really think you keep your place a mess just to get on my nerves,” Minseok mumbles, but he takes a seat at the kitchen table nonetheless, gratefully accepting the cup of black coffee Baekhyun hands him.

“You’re here at ass o’clock, much earlier than you know I’m used to, and you expect my place to be clean?” Baekhyun scoffs. “You’re dreaming, hyung. You really have much more faith in me than I do.”

“I do have faith in you. Maybe one day you won’t be as sluggish and careless as you are now if I keep forcing you to wake up, and, you know. Do things. Be a decent human being. Charming, even, if you tried.” The smile Minseok gives him is crooked, challenging, _charming_.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, settles in the chair facing Minseok, sipping at his own coffee—latte, two sugars—slowly. “Whatever. I have no one to impress. Just my old self and you, when you come visit.”

Minseok’s raised eyebrow suggests there might be more to it, when really—and Baekhyun means, _really_ —there’s absolutely nothing else to say, here. Baekhyun’s apartment is usually off limits—not because he asks for it to be, but simply because usually, he spends more time out of it than inside. School takes up a lot of time, and so does work and having friends—especially friends like Jongdae, Chanyeol, or Minseok— _especially_ , Jongdae.

In fact, Minseok is the only one who dares to go out of his way to come by Baekhyun’s place—he lives close by himself, and he does kind of help Baekhyun with the whole “ _taking care of yourself and your living space_ ” thing. But really—he’s the only one who bothers to do so, and so Baekhyun truly finds himself with little to no one to impress, in the vicinity of his apartment building.

“Are you sure about that, though?” Minseok still questions, eyebrow still raised perfectly and inquiringly above his eye. Minseok is pretty on many levels, Baekhyun thinks; it’s a shame he’s also straight like a stick. “What about your new neighbor, then?”

It’s Baekhyun’s turn to raise his eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve met him?”

“On my way up, yeah,” Minseok nods. “Wait, you haven’t? He’s moved in _ages_ ago, Baekhyun!”

And Baekhyun knows that—believe him, he _knows_ —but it just so happens that his and Yixing’s schedules are far from being coordinated. Though he has slowly but surely learned Yixing’s tone of voice by heart, Baekhyun has yet to see the man in flesh.

It’s another story, though, if Minseok has seen him before Baekhyun had the chance to do so. “I can’t believe you’ve met Yixing before I did.”

“Wait—you know his name? You’re on first-name speaking terms with him, but you’ve never actually _met_ the guy?” Minseok asks incredulously. “Please let me know how that works exactly.”

Baekhyun tightens his hold around his coffee mug, letting the heat seep through the porcelain and warm up his palms, calming him. He doesn’t know what makes him so reluctant to talk about Yixing to Minseok, especially since Minseok is, after all, his best friend, but…

Maybe, in a way, the odd, charming sort of habit he’s picked up with Yixing over the weeks has grown into something Baekhyun can’t exactly share with _anyone_.

Because, after that first time, it very much became just that—a habit.

Though it occurs at odd intervals, interspersed between long busy days and too short sleepless nights, Baekhyun slowly but surely grows accustomed to Yixing's voice singing through his bedroom walls. It rings softly at times, barely there, or loudly at others, muffled but still filling the room more than Baekhyun would have ever thought possible.

And every time, it fills Baekhyun with something so deliciously warm and serene, not unlike the liquid warmth of the coffee currently sliding down his throat—except, that warmth is both more tangible yet less concrete, more addicting, less easy to forget about, less easy to get used to. It makes Baekhyun feel things he hasn’t felt in a while, and it should be ridiculous—and it _is_ —because he only has ever _heard_ Yixing, has only ever spoken to him through the anonymity of their shared bedroom wall.

They do talk a lot, too—in between songs, some that Baekhyun knows and some others Baekhyun can only guess the words to, Yixing sometimes will ask Baekhyun about his day, asking for details and sounding genuinely curious. Baekhyun will return the favour, finding himself quite interested in Yixing’s stories himself. Bits by bits, Baekhyun learns about Yixing’s life as a performer, and as a teacher. Yixing teaches music in a primary school during the day, and performs with his band at night, often going straight from the classroom to the venue for his pre-show practice, leaving him very little time to spend at his place. Still, though—when he does pass by, when he has a little bit of time, Baekhyun sometimes manages to catch him, between a shift at the library or at the coffee shop and his graduate classes.

And maybe, along the way, Baekhyun becomes a little charmed by this picture of Yixing he has in his head—although he has no idea of what he looks like, the persona Baekhyun has built from those sparse conversations is appealing enough to be distracting, at times.

Times like this, like right now, as Minseok stares back at Baekhyun with an expectant expression verging on comically impatient. “Baekhyunnie? Did I say something weird?”

Startled, Baekhyun clears his throat, shaking his head just a little to clear his thoughts of… of Yixing, of the _idea_ of Yixing, of everything that isn’t Minseok right in front of him. “No, no, I just sort of, spaced out, I guess,” he explains sheepishly, throwing a shy smile in Minseok’s direction.

“Mmh. Sure.” Minseok narrows his eyes before he continues. “So, mind telling me how exactly you achieved that at the mere mention of your new neighbor?” Then, after a short pause, “what did you say his name was, again?”

“Yixing,” Baekhyun supplies maybe a little too fast. Minseok sits back, eyebrows raised, _still_. “Zhang Yixing. He’s Chinese, moved in a while ago, um. He teaches, and plays in a band. Or I think it’s a band? It was a band, last time we spoke, anyway—”

“Wait—you guys _spoke?_ ”

“We—yes?”

“But you’ve never met.”

“No.”

“You’ve never _seen_ him.”

“…No.”

“But, you spoke to him still?”

Baekhyun squirms in his seat, peeks at Minseok’s still full coffee cup. Damn it. “Yes. Through the walls.”

The deadpan stare Minseok gives him would be funny, if it wasn’t a reminder of how utterly nonsensical this whole situation is. “Through the walls.”

“You know how thin the walls are here. Remember when Tao lived next door before Yixing moved in and you—”

“Okay, okay! Please spare me the details, I do _not_ need to remember that night,” Minseok begs, bringing his hands over his ears. “Point taken.”

“So, yeah. We just… happened to have a conversation, through the walls. More than once.” Baekhyun doesn’t mention the singing. That’s… _special_ , that’s something between Yixing and him, in a way.

“Okay. I’ll pretend what you just said didn’t lack complete sense, and ask you, again: how come have you never met him in person before, Baekhyun?”

“It just hasn’t occurred yet?” Baekhyun shrugs. Then, because he’s kind of getting atrociously curious, he adds, “What’s so special about him that you keep asking me that, anyway?”

It’s as though Baekhyun’s words work like a charm, because Minseok’s features shift into a smug, knowing expression. “Because, I know you. And I know your type. And if Yixing is the man I met in the elevator, then let me tell you, Baekhyunnie, your pen pal companion is _definitely_ your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Baekhyun mumbles half-heartedly, and tries to ignore how he can feel his ears go red. Why are his ears going red? “And Yixing is more like… a wall pal. If there’s such a thing. A wallflower?”

“Okay, sure,” Minseok says with a roll of his eyes. _Pretty_ , Baekhyun thinks again. “But honestly, though. That Yixing kid? What a man. You’d better snatch him before someone else does.”

“Should I be worried?” Baekhyun quirks an eyebrow, and yeah, he’s definitely picking on Minseok’s habits. “Are you sure you’re straight, hyung?”

“ _Baekhyun_.”

“Remember when I was fifteen and asked if I could kiss you? The offer still stands, you know. Always has, always will.”

Minseok shoots him a glare, and finishes his coffee in one long sip, by some miracle. “I’ll pass this time again, Baekhyunnie. Now get ready. You’re spending time with your hyung, this weekend.”

***

Sometimes, Baekhyun will come home to the sound of Yixing’s lovely, clear voice wafting through the air and from the walls. It’s almost like coming home to music itself, but a little different, too; a little more special.

Baekhyun, in those times, will knock twice on the wall, and after a moment, almost always, Yixing will knock back, before resuming. If Baekhyun knows the lyrics, chances are, he sings along as he paces his room, making his trips to the kitchen or the living room quick, eager to come back to Yixing—or rather, his voice. It’s a little ridiculous and sometimes makes him wonder what keeps him going back every single time, but rather than dwelling on it, Baekhyun simply shrugs it off, choosing to hum along to the melody instead.

The happier the songs, the more Yixing is eager to talk, most of the time. A little like tonight.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“I don’t have one,” Baekhyun says simply. He’s munching on shrimp flavoured chips and typing away at his laptop, but the calming soundtrack of Yixing distractedly strumming at his guitar on the other side of the wall and the conversation he seems determined on keeping up helps not falling asleep on his work. “Not just one, anyway.”

“Oh, hey, same here. So like, favourite colours, then?”

“Mmh. Black, white, and gray.”

Baekhyun swears he can _hear_ Yixing scrunch up his nose, what with the way a muffled sound of a sniff makes its way through the walls ever so faintly, and how it twists his voice just a little. He wonders what he looks like, right now. “Those aren’t _colours_ , though. Gray, seriously?”

“Hey! They are to me,” Baekhyun retorts between two bites. He should probably get up and get napkins, in order not to make a mess and leave oil stains on his keyboard.

Then again, that would involve getting up—and leaving Yixing, even for just a minute, in the process.

After a few clicks at his keyboard, Baekhyun hears Yixing’s voice again. “I thought you would like something like, I don’t know. Something like… deep red? Or sky blue. Or baby pink.”

“Baby pink? I had pink hair, once,” Baekhyun muses. “But why—”

“You dye your hair?” Yixing seems rather pleased by that—his voice squeaks and scratches a little more at the edges, smoothed out by the genuine curiosity that pours out of his words.

Baekhyun grins. “I used to a lot,” he explains. One more sentence goes into his essay. “But then my hair didn’t seem to like that idea as much, so I’m going back to more natural colours. Letting my scalp breathe a little.”

“What colour is your hair, now?”

“Brown. Not as cute as pink, mind you.”

“I’m sure it looks lovely, Baekhyun,” Yixing says, like he means it genuinely, and Baekhyun smiles just a little wider without meaning to.

“You’ve never seen it, though.”

“I still mean it,” Yixing replies petulantly. His fingers seem a little more fidgety on the guitar, notes flowing a little faster and a little more melodiously now than they were moments ago. “I only dyed my hair a handful of times. But I prefer it black.”

“And you make fun of me for having black as my favourite colour,” Baekhyun mutters.

“I like black too! And purple,” Yixing shares. “I was just taken aback, at first. Your colours don’t match.”

“My colours don’t match? You lost me there, Xing.”

Neither of them comments on Baekhyun’s impromptu nickname—no, Yixing only hums, before he speaks again, a little more thoughtful and softer in tone. “Your voice rings in so many different colours, you know. Deep and dark at times and pale and bright at others—but it’s always so peaceful, you know? It’s… intimate.”

Baekhyun can feel his cheeks heat up, and it’s gotten a lot hotter in his room than it was only a mere few moments ago. “You’re so full of shit.”

Yixing chuckles, but he carries on, as though Baekhyun hasn’t said a word, as though he himself isn’t describing Baekhyun’s voice like a goddamn work of literature or some other thing Baekhyun has very little understanding of but a lot of admiration for. Or something. “Black and white and gray are such… neutral tones. I just didn’t think you would pick those when you’re anything but ordinary.”

“As I said, you’re full of shit,” Baekhyun repeats, because he’s speechless, because Yixing sounds way too honest and certain of his words, while they’ve never even met, while they only know of each other what they decide to tell the other. “And there’s nothing wrong with ordinary. Black and white and gray are very nice neutral colours! They’re essential to the way we see things and they make you look good when you wear them and—”

“I’m only teasing you, Baekhyun,” Yixing interrupts, voice ever so soft, and Baekhyun _knows_ that, and huffs with his nose turned up, (pretending to be) annoyed.

Still, Baekhyun’s heart flips, jumps, plummets, twists, squeezes. The smile on his lips almost hurts with how much it’s pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you flustered, Baekhyun?” Yixing is most definitely smirking, Baekhyun thinks. Yixing can shove his smirk up his—

“Do you have any songs for me?” Baekhyun speaks up because Yixing is probably still smiling smugly behind the wall they share and because the blush of his cheeks still burns, thought here’s no one there to see it. “Shouldn’t you be practicing instead of teasing me?”

“You’re right,” Yixing sighs, “but it’s just _so much fun_ to tease you.”

“I’ll let you know that _I_ do the teasing,” Baekhyun replies. “Get singing, music man.”

Yixing laughs, and Baekhyun can’t help it when he bites his lip at the sound. “Okay, alright. Yifan doesn’t have any new songs, though. I’ll just…”

The guitar sounds pick up again, this time detailing a melody that Baekhyun knows by heart. He starts humming right away, low and slow, like the guitar that accompanies his voice.

Then, Yixing starts singing, and Baekhyun joins him a little more assuredly, and he thinks he could get used to this, even with a wall between him and the man that makes his face hurt with smiles and his heart flutter with skipped heartbeats.

***

It’s two more weeks with Yixing’s company behind his wall, and two more weeks of Baekhyun’s incredibly stupid, and most definitely smitten—though he would never admit to any of it—antics surrounding his lovely, still faceless neighbor. Midterms have been keeping him up more often than he’d like, but it also allows for more late night conversations with Yixing, who more and more often manages to catch him after a performance even when it ends a little too late.

“Did you like this one, then?” Yixing asks, from the other side of the wall, voice going a little higher up at the end of his words and guitar sounds coming to a halt.

Baekhyun smiles, head falling back against the wall behind him. He’s on the floor, paperwork spread out on the carpet around him, arms around his knees. Late night hours are turning into early morning, slowly but surely, but Yixing sounds so happy that it’s contagious, and Baekhyun simply can’t find it in himself to go to sleep. “Did I like what?”

“This song,” Yixing clarifies. “I’ve been practicing it for a while, now, but I never… I’ve never played it in full, before.”

“Is it one of yours?”

“No, it isn’t.” The way he says it is sheepish, and Baekhyun wonders how Yixing looks when he’s sheepish, if he scrunches up his nose or raises his shoulders or doesn’t do any of that. “I don’t—I don’t write songs, actually.”

“Wait—seriously? But you’re in a band, aren’t you? So I thought…” What an odd thought, still—Yixing, always serenading the evening with his guitar and his voice, seemingly has never taken the time to put his own thoughts to paper and music for the everyone to hear. With how much Baekhyun has learned about Yixing from their conversations alone, he had thought of the opposite as the obvious, but it seems like he was wrong.

“Yifan writes the songs we play, all of them,” Yixing explains. His voice has lost some of its volume, now; it’s a little softer, lulling Baekhyun to sleep. “He’s marvelous at it. I like playing them.” It sounds a whole lot like “ _I don’t mind playing them_ ,” to Baekhyun.

“Is it enough?”

“What’s enough?”

“Playing someone else’s songs. It seems to me you might have more to say. More to share. Songs of your own.” Yixing’s own stories, out there for the world to hear; Baekhyun entertains the thought, wondering.

Yixing takes his time to reply, and Baekhyun thinks he has lost him to slumber before he hears him sigh. He yawns himself, setting against the wall behind him a little more snuggly. “How would you know that, Baekhyun?”

It’s asked without reproach, only genuine interest—yet, it still manages to catch Baekhyun off guard, mostly because it makes him realize yet again that he knows next to nothing about Yixing. He might know the tone of his voice by heart and what he does for a living and his favourite ice cream flavour and the title of the first album he’s bought with his own money, it’s still not enough to call him a friend, let alone anything more. There’s still the absolutely ridiculous fact that he hasn’t _met_ Yixing yet, even after a month of him having moved in, as though the Universe has decided to play with the pair of them and maybe drag things out—or whatever it is—to drive Baekhyun crazy.

Yixing’s question still hangs in the air between them, just like the wall that separates them, so Baekhyun answers. “I don’t know. The stuff you tell me, sometimes. It would make some great songs. But I never hear it in what you sing.” A pause, then he adds, “I think it’d be great.”

“You think so?”

“Mmh.” Baekhyun closes his eyes, feels his limbs relax. “And to answer your first question,” he remembers suddenly, “I did like it. Your song. Or Yifan’s, or whatever.”

“You did?”

“Mmh. I did.” Baekhyun smiles, but his face takes a while to respond. He should probably climb on his bed. Sleep is dangerously taking over him, and sleeping on the floor does not count amongst his plans this Tuesday evening.

“Baekhyun.”

“Yeah?”

“How come I haven’t seen you, yet? I feel like we’ve known each other forever, you know.” Yixing’s voice softens considerably at those words. Baekhyun’s heart jolts. “But I don’t even know what you look like.”

Despite the fatigue pulling at him, Baekhyun chuckles softly, eyes still closed. He sighs deeply, and he knows Yixing can hear it. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“I’m terribly curious, you know. What if you’re an old, lonely grandpa?”

“Do I sound like an old man to you?”

“No,” Yixing says with a smile. Baekhyun can hear it in his voice. “Do I?”

“No. You sound like… like hot chocolate.” Yeah, okay, Baekhyun is definitely half asleep already. His mouth has started acting up on its own, free of his sluggish brain’s self-control. “Very soft and warm and cozy.”

Baekhyun needs sleep. _Now_.

“Hot chocolate?” Yixing laughs softly, and vaguely, Baekhyun realizes he hasn’t heard the strum of Yixing’s guitar in quite a few minutes now. Maybe Yixing is falling asleep next to him, on the other side of the wall, too. “I’ll take it as a compliment, I guess.”

“It’s definitely a compliment,” Baekhyun yawns. The bed is so _far_ _away_. “And if you want to see my face, we should set up, like, an appointment. A date.”

Awake Baekhyun would slap his hand over his mouth and panic at those scandalous—truly _scandalous_ —words. As it is, Sleepy Baekhyun barely feels the panic flutter in his heart. He’ll care about that tomorrow.

“A date?” comes Yixing’s lovely, lovely voice, lilting at the word so beautifully Baekhyun smiles in his sleep-induced state. “Are you sure?”

“Sure,” Baekhyun mumbles. It’s getting harder to push the words out of his mouth, through his lips, through the wall. “I think… I’m sleep. Tomorrow.”

For a moment, only Yixing’s soft chuckle can be heard, before silence takes over, then, just before Baekhyun falls asleep on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, just before Yixing’s voice fades into nothingness, Baekhyun hears him speak. “I’ll won’t let you forget, you know. Goodnight, Baekhyun. I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope.”

***

Jongdae doubles over and almost runs into a street light, the next day, when Baekhyun retells him the events of the night before with a slight tremor to his voice.

“You asked him out _in your sleep!_ ” his friend wheezes, and Baekhyun can see tiny tears escaping the mess of crinkles his smiling eyes have become. _Traitor_. “Of course _you_ would do that, Byun Baekhyun.”

“It’s not funny!” Baekhyun insists, dodging a man running for the bus they’ve just passed by as they walk. Jongdae agreed to walk Baekhyun home, only because he’s making his way to Minseok’s afterwards. “I didn’t—I really didn’t think it through. What if it goes to shit? What if he hates me? What if—”

“According to Minseok-hyung, Yixing is a total model. Like, 11/10 type of guy.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “That is, if you’re worried about his looks, since you’re already crushing on him, it looks like. So really, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Minseok-hyung is straight,” Baekhyun replies sternly, even though he’s tempted to air-quote the word “ _straight_ ,” just because. “His advice doesn’t count.”

“Is Minseok-hyung _really_ straight, though?” Jongdae says with a faux conspiratorial air, voice hushed yet still loud in the street around them. “That’s truly something up for debate.”

“Because _you_ know anything about being straight, obviously,” Baekhyun mumbles, even if they both know Jongdae makes a point. They’re only one block away from his building, and he slows his step in consequence.

“Enough about me, though. Or Minseok-hyung. For now, anyway.” Jongdae puts his hands on Baekhyun’s shoulders, fixing him with a serious—too serious, verging on the ridiculous—stare, curled lips aiming for a frown but looking like a twisted smile instead. “You need to meet Yixing, Baekhyun.”

 _Yes, I know_. “No, I don’t.”

“You just went, ‘ _Yes, I know_ ,’ in your head, right?” Jongdae quirks an eyebrow, and Baekhyun scowls at him.

“Screw you and your creepy telepathic skills,” he grumbles.

Jongdae’s hands tighten around his shoulders, shaking him a little. “Wake up, Baekhyun. You’re a grown ass man. One little date—or more, hey, I definitely wouldn’t put it past you—anyway, that won’t put an end to your life. Yixing seems like a lovely guy!”

And that’s the _thing_ , Baekhyun wants to say. Yixing is lovely, even more even than the lovely sound of his tinkling-like voice, sweet and charming and just… so _much_. Even though Baekhyun has only ever had the chance to discover him through his songs and words, with a wall shutting them apart from each other, he already knows he feels something for Yixing—and it’s all the more terrifying because, in truth, Baekhyun only has an idea of the guy; an idea that’s too attractive, too good to be true.

But faced with Jongdae’s comforting eyes, his expectant expression, Baekhyun can only bite his bottom lip in resignation and nod slowly. “He _is_ kinda cute. His voice is, anyway,” he decides to say.

Jongdae’s face softens, and Baekhyun internally breathes out in relief. “See? Bet you he’s even cuter in person.” And with that, Jongdae claps him on the shoulder before he drops his arms, signaling the end of their conversation. “Anyway. My wife’s waiting.”

Baekhyun chokes on air. “Your _wife?_ ”

The smirk Jongdae gives him has an edge to it. “Hyung doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” And with that, he throws Baekhyun a two-finger salute, before he says, “Go get him, Baekhyunnie!”

 _Hyung?_ “Wait—Jongdae! What’s Minseok-hyung go to do with _any_ of—hey!”

And then, Jongdae’s gone—and Baekhyun is still trying to figure out exactly _why_ Jongdae had called Minseok his _wife_.

Maybe, definitely, Minseok isn’t straight, after all.

He’s still thinking about that—and not about Yixing, no, never—when he enters the elevator inside his apartment building, taking out his phone and scrolling through his notifications. Baekhyun presses the button to the seventh floor distractedly, and the doors are slowly closing on themselves when a loud thump resonates in the small cabin.

Baekhyun startles, looks up to find a man of about his age rushing in with a sheepish face inside the elevator. The timid nod he gives Baekhyun is enough to make the latter chuckle softly, before returning his nod a little more assuredly. The man stands next to him, grocery bags in one hand, reaching out for the buttons with the other before halting in his movements. Baekhyun watches as he retracts his hand, not pressing any floor number, and his eyes fleet back to the man’s, who has raised eyebrows and a curious look on his face.

Out of the four apartments on the seventh floor, only three are occupied—Baekhyun’s, Old Lady Oh’s, who lives on the other side of the hall and who frequently gets visits of her nephew Sehun, and Yixing’s, next door to Baekhyun’s. Maybe this man is a friend of Sehun’s, or another family visitor of Old Lady Oh’s? Or maybe, Baekhyun ponders, it’s actually one of _Yixing’s_ friends. Or maybe…

_Could it be?_

When the numbers above the door display number 3, Baekhyun steals a look towards the stranger standing next to him. He has his eyes staring up at the increasing floor numbers, head tilted up and the line of his neck displayed in the low light of the elevator. His nose is perfect—truly, absolutely _perfect_ —and his eyes are sharp but kind, something about them softening the hardness of his gaze. His cheekbones are to die for, his hair looks soft and totally inviting—Baekhyun’s hands are itching to run through those luscious locks, truly—and wow, Baekhyun definitely is getting ahead of himself here.

He swallows, and startles when the elevator dings, heavy metal doors opening. He already feels the regret crawling up to his throat as the man starts walking out of the elevator cabin when—

“Isn’t this your floor, too?” Yixing’s suddenly voice asks— _Yixing’s_ _voice_ , and Baekhyun’s eyes shoot straight up to the man’s eyes who’s looking at him from the seventh floor hall, because the voice came out of _that_ mouth and—

“Yixing?” Baekhyun asks, hopeful, feeling the pull of a smile at the corners of his mouth, something giddy and happy fluttering in his gut. “Oh my God, is that—”

“The doors!” Yixing-voiced man cuts, and Baekhyun realizes the doors are closing onto him and he still hasn’t left the cabin, yet—and so he scurries out of the elevator quickly, letting out a rather unattractive yelp when the doors close right behind him, a hair away from his body.

Breathe in, breathe out. The slight tinkling quality of Yixing’s voice in the room right there with him, not muted and muffled by a too-thin wall—but a wall nonetheless—is still replaying crystal clear in Baekhyun’s mind.

“That was close, huh?” Yixing speaks again, because now, Baekhyun has no doubt it’s really him, it _must_ be him, with the way his smile turns his words around and makes them sound so… lovely. How can a smile make a voice sound even more enchanting than it already is?

Baekhyun smiles back, and maybe his heart melts a little when he notices the way Yixing’s face lights up at the sight of his grin. It’s good to know the effect Yixing has on him seems to be reciprocated. “It was.” Baekhyun licks his lips, tilts his head, unsure what to say. How does one go about this, anyway?

Before he can add anything, though, Yixing beats him to it. “So you’re Baekhyun, huh?” he says, voice lilting oh so beautifully and Baekhyun is _definitely_ melting.

Jongdae was totally right: Baekhyun is crushing, crushing _hard_ over Yixing, has probably been for a month now, and Yixing is definitely a lovely fellow and he does look like an 11/10 type of guy—though that apparently were Minseok’s words, not Jongdae’s.

Either way, Baekhyun agrees, wholeheartedly, even. He nods enthusiastically, still smiling. “That would be me, yes. Disappointed, Yixing?”

At the mention of his name, Yixing seems to light up, and Baekhyun notices the appearance of a dimple in his cheek. Baekhyun’s heart is skipping beats and he’s so bloody happy he’s about to giggle to death just at the sight of Yixing grinning at him. “Absolutely not. You’re even cuter than I imagined.”

“You imagined this?”

“Meeting you, yes.” Yixing’s smile turns slightly amused. “Your date offer, does it still stand?”

“Absolutely,” Baekhyun answers definitely way too fast, but it prompts a tiny chuckle from Yixing, and Baekhyun feels confident. “I mean, if you’re up for it. I’m free, today, by the way.”

“No essays to write?” Yixing asks, and Baekhyun’s heart swoons. He’s reminded that even though this feels like a first meeting—and it very much is, in a way—he’s sort of known Yixing for a month or so now, and Yixing remembers things about him. He _cares_ , and Baekhyun’s utterly pleased about that fact alone.

“Nope, none.”

“No shift with Kyungsoo at the library?”

“Not today, no.”

“What about the coffee shop?”

“Gee, Yixing, if you really don’t want my company, I’ll understand—”

“No! No, Baekhyun please,” Yixing amends quickly, and Baekhyun smirks. “If you’re really free, then… How about you come over? I have food, and coffee. And a guitar.”

Baekhyun crosses his arms, pretends to think about making a decision even though he’s already anticipating stepping a foot in Yixing’s apartment. “Not too busy with corrections and other teaching stuff?”

“I’m a primary school teacher, Baekhyun, and I teach _music_. I don’t exactly get very busy.”

“And the band?”

Yixing sighs, shifting his weight on his feet. Baekhyun only then notices the bags still in his hand. “I do need to practice a little,” Yixing admits, “but you’ll help me do that, right?” Then, a little more softly, “Come over?”

And because Baekhyun has decided he’s in love with the shy smile prompting him, because his feet are already taking him closer to Yixing’s standing figure, because Baekhyun wants to feel more than just the warmth of Yixing’s voice and maybe Yixing’s warmth itself, he nods. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

***

As it turns out, Yixing is lovely, lovely company, even more so when he’s right there next to Baekhyun, rather than hiding behind his bedroom wall.

Yixing’s smile is enchanting and draws Baekhyun in effortlessly, and Baekhyun can’t help but notice and revel in the way Yixing follows his own every move, how the smallest step gets Yixing’s body moving accordingly.

Baekhyun doesn't miss the way Yixing's eyes are often more set on him than whatever else he's supposedly paying attention to, or the way he's constantly on the verge of reaching out towards him but maybe stopping at the very last moment.

And because Baekhyun loves the attention, well. Of _course_ , he has fun with it—playing with Yixing's buttons just a little, obvious enough to get noticed but sneaky enough not to get called out on it, only letting a tiny corner smile slip on his lips as he watches Yixing go back to preparing dinner with a huff and a smile of his own.

Because, as it also turns out, Yixing is an excellent cook—and he's insistent on making something “ _quick and simple, I promise_ ,” even though Baekhyun had told him more than once that no, he was fine, he'll just take whatever's already in Yixing's fridge and there's no need to make a fuss.

But Yixing's puppy eyes work wonders—even more so than his cute, petulant mumble Baekhyun has gotten accustomed to in the past few weeks—and so Baekhyun should not be held accountable for relenting to Yixing's persistent ways. His pretty sparkly eyes are to blame, here, obviously.

“Let me help, though,” Baekhyun still offers, and Yixing rolls his eyes and sighs, but nods nonetheless, telling Baekhyun what to do and where to pick up the right pans and spoons.

As it turns out, being in the same room as Yixing differs a lot, yet very little, from being in the company of his voice alone. Now, Baekhyun can catch the tiny smiles he could only hear in Yixing's tone as he speaks, or the way his eyes widen when he's talking about something he thoroughly enjoys. Now, Baekhyun can match expressions of glee and annoyance and absent focus to the ups and downs and the fluctuations of the voice he's learned the tone of by heart for over a month.

But aside from that, still, very little changes—teasing Yixing remains incredibly entertaining, and the way Yixing returns it is even more so addictive. They fall in a comfortable silence more than once, only broken by the clatter of their joint cooking, but neither of them feels the urgent need to break it. They also move around each other easily, and maybe Baekhyun shivers the first time Yixing lays a hand on his hip almost by accident—but Baekhyun later makes it his mission to initiate as many of those small, heart-fluttering small touches as possible.

And, in the end, it might be the reason why they’re in the situation they find themselves in, right now—because, as it also turns out, Baekhyun ultimately learns that Yixing is a very passionate, gentle, and incredibly _good_ kisser.

Baekhyun has his arms caging Yixing against the counter, hands pressing at the low of his back, pulling him close—but it was actually Yixing who had initiated the kiss, catching Baekhyun’s eye after a particularly _not_ subtle brush of his hand at the hem of his shirt, fingertips brushing against skin. Yixing had grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in until there was no space between them—and, especially, their mouths.

There’s a pair of arms that tightens slightly around his neck, and a pair of soft, plump lips pressing against his own that he’s just learned to love but definitely plans on getting more familiar with. The way Yixing kisses him is so _deep_ —there’s something about the press of his lips, the way he moves them across Baekhyun’s mouth and all over his skin, the way his entire body curves and arches into him that makes heat knot tight in his stomach, lodging itself there and pulling and making him groan and press closer, closer, _closer_.

The melody Yixing sings now is different from the ones Baekhyun’s used to, too—whimpers and hiccupped moans Baekhyun already knows how to trigger, with his hands wandering to _that_ spot and pressing just _that_ much—and it’s not one he doesn’t enjoy hearing, either, far from it. Baekhyun revels in the way his touch reduces Yixing—confident, determined Yixing—into a more pliant, eager version of himself, and it makes him smile into the kiss.

When Yixing wants him so _much_ , so openly, it’s no wonder Baekhyun is smiling at the mere thought of it.

Yixing smiles back, the motion pulling at his lips, and they both soak in a deep breath as they part, staying only an inch away from the other. Baekhyun fixes his gaze on Yixing’s bottom lip, blood red and bitten, entrancing.

He lets out a small chuckle. “How long have you waited to do this?” he teases, knowing they both know the feeling is most definitely shared.

But Baekhyun is definitely not one to shy away from teasing, _especially_ not teasing Yixing.

Though he’s too close to see it, Baekhyun can somehow feel Yixing roll his eyes above him. “Way too long. From your voice alone, I knew I…” He stops when he sees Baekhyun’s smile turn into what must be a shit-eating grin. “Anyway. Satisfied?”

“Absolutely,” Baekhyun murmurs, before leaning up and pressing his lips to Yixing’s again, humming into it. “You’re an incredible kisser.”

“Is that it?”

“You’re also a great singer. And lovely company. And you have the most adorable dimples. And I bet your food tastes good, too”

Deft fingers run through Baekhyun’s hair, making him shiver, and it reminds him he still hasn’t run his fingers through Yixing’s curls. He makes a mental note to himself to try that out, later. “I’m flattered. But as much as I’d like to keep doing this,” Yixing says, pecking Baekhyun one last time on the lips before pulling back his arms and resting his hands against Baekhyun’s chest, “we do have a dinner to finish cooking. And eventually eat. And I do need to practice, you know. I have a show, tomorrow night.”

Baekhyun sighs, but it’s content, albeit a little bit resigned, too. “Let’s make dinner, then. And I’ll help you perfect that wonderful voice of yours after.”

The way Yixing scrunches up his nose at the compliment is too cute for Baekhyun not to reach up quickly and leave one last chaste kiss on his nose, before pulling away completely and going back to the task at hand.

It’s not even minutes later that Yixing comes up behind him, though, arms circling his waist from behind as he says, “The kissing thing. I can do that more than just once, right?”

“Uh. Definitely? Like, you definitely did not need to ask, so.”

“It’s not too fast?” Yixing murmurs, lips _way_ too close to Baekhyun’s ear. It makes it hard to focus.

But Baekhyun knows what Yixing is asking—those thoughts are no stranger to him, either—and so he forces down the tame arousal that still tickles his gut. After all, it’s not every day you just decide you want to kiss your neighbor you’ve just met repeatedly—hopefully regularly, as well—even if you’ve only ever been having late night conversations with them through your bedroom walls and only really just _met_ them about two hours ago.

But what is there to lose, Baekhyun thinks, when he already knows so much about Yixing, looks be damned—though, if he’s honest, Yixing might just be the man of his dreams—and the fluttery, giddy feeling in his stomach has been associated with him for weeks now? If anything, this one first—this first kiss, of many more to come—might just have solidified something between them that will draw them closer rather than keep them apart.

“Not too fast,” Baekhyun says, with a confident tone. He goes back to the dishes he’s washing, catching on the way Yixing shifts behind and around him to accommodate his movements. “I mean, seriously? We can pretty much say we’ve been dating ever since you moved in, so.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. I made you fall for me as soon as I sang that song with you that first time while writing one of my papers.”

Baekhyun represses a shiver when Yixing tucks a smile against his neck. “You should write papers more often. Your voice sounds best when you’re focused.”

“Please tell me you don’t mean that. I do _not_ need extra schoolwork on my shoulders, Xing.”

They eat dinner in the living room, Baekhyun on the couch and Yixing sprawled out on the floor. Yixing finishes eating first, and picks up his guitar while Baekhyun quickly shoves the rest of his food down his throat to join Yixing in his singing, and Baekhyun almost, almost regrets how serious Yixing is about this whole singing thing.

A little kissing and thorough making out happens after that, but not much. As it turns out, a focused Yixing is very hard to sway away from his duties, even with a very distracting Baekhyun close by, as Yixing had put it.

“Can you harmonize with me on this? I can show you, if you want. I just need to get the chords right so that I don’t get mixed up or anything and it would really help if—”

“Only if you give me a kiss.”

“ _Baekhyun_.”

“What? Now that I get to kiss you, don’t think I won’t use that to my advantage—”

“Never mind, then. I’ll figure it out by myself—”

“Don’t you want to kiss me, though?”

Follow suit, a series of kissing noises—courtesy of Baekhyun—and a low whine from Yixing, who then starts complaining about how cute Baekhyun is and how things were so much easier when he was stuck in his room, on the other side of the wall.

(Of course, he ends up giving Baekhyun a kiss—but just one, and only one, because he’s a “ _grown man_ ” with “ _important responsibilities_ ” and it’s not a “ _silly, lovely, irresistible_ ” Baekhyun that will change any of that. Or so Yixing says.)

For a while, Baekhyun plays the part, and he enjoys it, of course he does—he accompanies Yixing in his songs, humming or singing when he has to (or wants to, at times). Sometimes, he slips away to grab him a glass of water without him having to ask, because one of the things Baekhyun knows best about Yixing is his voice, after all—and he knows when it sounds tired or strained, how different it rings. And Yixing, grateful, accepts everything, with a kind smile and crinkled eyes and not enough kisses to Baekhyun’s liking.

He does manage, however, to climb on Yixing’s lap near the end of the evening and leave him a complete, disheveled mess, lips red and mouth panting, hair going up in spikes from Baekhyun’s insistent fingers. He’s absolutely not sorry, either, when he leaves the apartment to go back to his own merely moments after that, leaving a gaping—and definitely frustrated—Yixing behind.

It’s fine, though. Baekhyun has a feeling they’ll see each other tomorrow morning.

And so, their night ends in two knocks, against their shared wall that night. “Goodnight, Yixing.”

Two knocks, and a low hum. “Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

***

It's still early when Baekhyun wakes the next day, which is a feat in itself—his classes don't start until noon, and it's not even seven in the morning yet, judging by the blueish gray quality of the light filtering through his curtains. It might just be the earliest he's ever been up in over two months.

Sleep is still numbing his limbs, and he lets out a noise when he stretches languidly over his sheets, pulling his arms high above his head and pointing his feet. Memories of the night before come rushing at him—the guitar melodies and the soft spoken words and the kisses and _Yixing_ , everything about him; the twinkle in his eye and the dimple in his cheek are thoroughly insistent on being remembered amongst the cluster of thoughts in his head.

Fluttering his eyes closed pleasantly, Baekhyun hums at his thoughts, settling further in his sheets and already considering falling asleep a few more hours; after all, he has no reason to be awake this early—

“Oh _fuck_.”

Baekhyun's eyes shoot open suddenly, his heartbeat stopping for a fraction of a second only to start beating again moments later—only twice as fast, because there's _no way_ he heard that right.

Yixing's voice, this early in the morning, is definitely unusual—but then again, Baekhyun has never been much of a morning person, and he's told Yixing that much. But it's new to hear it at this time of the day too, and not just in the late evenings they manage to catch each other.

Especially now that Baekhyun has an idea of what Yixing looks like, and can guess what he would look like drowsy and mussed with sleep, probably all soft and curvy edges where they’re usually sharper, and definitely more affectionate and adorably clingy than he already is.

But _this_ —this desperate, breathy tone that Yixing has just flaunted—this is something taken straight out of Baekhyun’s darkest and deepest fantasies, and again, there’s no way he—

“Uh, uh… ah— _shit_ ,” Yixing’s voice filters through the wall, and now, there’s _no_ doubt as to what exactly is happening.

Baekhyun sits up straight in his bed, his heart beating itself out of his chest and rummaging inside his chest, and he can feel himself blush—of all things—and the familiar, delicious heat of arousal going south to his groin.

It’s not even seven in the morning yet. This is not—this _cannot_ be happening—

“Baek—Baek _hyun_ ,” Yixing hums low, stutters, and yeah, okay, _fuck_ self-control.

Baekhyun chokes on a moan of his own, because again, there’s no way this is happening—but it’s so hot, it’s so fucking empowering to think he has that kind of effect on Yixing, that much leverage. He’s not one to play with anyone’s feelings—absolutely not—but he’ll lie if he doesn’t enjoy… whatever this is.

“Yixing, morning,” he tries, tentatively, pitching his voice slightly lower than it usually goes.

Once he hears Yixing’s voice hitch and stutter, Baekhyun bites his lip. His hands are still at his sides, by some miracle. “I—um—good morning, Baekhyun,” Yixing blabbers. “You—you’ve been awake for how long?”

“Long enough to have heard enough,” he chuckles through his—and Yixing’s—embarrassment, and he closes his eyes, not to imagine anything, truly, but images flash behind his eyelids and he shouldn’t but maybe he does let his mind wander a little.

What must Yixing look like right now, skin flushed and desperate? The scrunch of his eyebrows, the part of his lips, Baekhyun has glimpses of it in his head—he almost, almost feels ashamed for reaching down with his right hand, palming himself through his underwear.

Silence welcomes his words for a good ten seconds, and Baekhyun thinks he’s lost Yixing, somehow, on the other side of the wall—but then his voice rings again, and it sends shivers down his spine. “Enjoying the show?”

Baekhyun swallows his moan. “Definitely not bad, yeah.”

“So were you counting on doing something about it, or?”

Pressure builds, pushes at Baekhyun’s skin, making him shiver at his own touch and the tone of Yixing’s voice. “Absolutely not. I’ll leave you to it, you seemed just fine on your own.”

“I—God, you’re a menace.”

“I’m aware,” Baekhyun laughs, and hums when he hears Yixing sigh in pleasure.

He wonders what Yixing is doing to make those noises, but the thoughts are soon drowned with the realization that Yixing is now being more vocal, showing off and definitely putting on a fucking _performance_ for Baekhyun’s sake and—

It’s way too early for any of this to happen, yet Baekhyun is starting to curse the damn wall separating them right now, wishing they were together already—he already misses Yixing’s lips, Yixing’s skin and its taste, Yixing’s hands and their burning touch on his own skin, _everything_.

“Come over,” he asks, and when did his voice start sounding so hoarse? He hasn’t even done anything yet.

 _Yet_.

“I thought I was doing just fine on my own?” Yixing manages through his breathy moans, and Baekhyun wants to kiss them away from him, swallow them with his own mouth.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Baekhyun decides. “I’ll make you breakfast?”

“It’s a deal,” Yixing singsongs, and it’s the most composed he’s sounded all morning. “Meet you at your door in two.”

It’s not even moments later when Baekhyun opens his door to a disheveled, soft-looking Yixing at his door, still clad in his t-shirt from the night before and his underwear—which hides very little, if Baekhyun’s honest. Good.

“Morning,” Yixing breathes out, blush bright red painting his cheeks and neck a lovely colour.

“Morning to you too,” Baekhyun says, grabbing Yixing’s wrist and pulling him inside, pushing him against the wall and kicking the door closed behind him. He leans in, presses one kiss against Yixing’s lips before pulling back just as fast despite Yixing following him with his mouth. “You like coffee with your breakfast?”

“I—yes, I mean—”

“Okay, cool, just taking note for later,” Baekhyun concludes, before finally, _finally_ kissing Yixing again, not wasting time before licking his way inside his mouth and finally, _finally_ drawing out those wonderful, almost melodic moans from him.

“I—I don’t have work today,” Yixing says after two or twenty kisses from Baekhyun, who has relocated to the skin under his ear, at the juncture of his neck. He doesn’t miss the way Yixing shivers under his lips, and the way his hips move up automatically when he slides a thigh between his legs.

“Lovely,” Baekhyun murmurs. “We have all morning, then.”

“We do?”

“Mmh. Better not waste any time, then,” he says, pulling a smiling Yixing to his bedroom, thoughts of _too fast_ and _scary_ and _not thinking enough about this_ lost in the spark in Yixing’s eyes and the adorable dimple in his cheek.

When he laces his fingers with Yixing’s, moments later for hours on end, he doesn’t admit to counting every time Yixing squeezes his fingers gently, before it becomes too many times to count, at all.

***

Turns out it wasn’t class Baekhyun had, at noon—it was lunch with Minseok and Jongdae.

Which means, Baekhyun had completely missed out on those plans, which then prompted his friends to worryingly spam his phone with calls and texts, to the point where Baekhyun had to drag himself out of Yixing’s embrace—revolting, truly—to silence his device.

That was his intention, anyway. Once he sees the stream of missed notifications on his lock screen, he falls silent.

“Everything alright?”

“I forgot I had plans with Minseok-hyung and Jongdae,” he mumbles. “Oops?”

Yixing snorts, leaving a peck on Baekhyun’s shoulder and sliding an arm around his naked waist. “I’m quite the distraction, aren’t I? My ass is a wonder of the universe, huh?”

Baekhyun blushes. So he might have let that slip out of his lips earlier. But it was definitely _not_ on purpose.

“Don’t flatter yourself like that,” Baekhyun mutters. “We both know damn well _I’m_ the expert at being a sinful distraction in this relationship.”

 _Relationship_. Well, talk about taking things to another level.

Baekhyun freezes in Yixing’s arms, and Yixing seems to notice, before he blows air against the skin of Baekhyun’s neck, making him squirm. “Relax, silly. If you don’t want us to label this—”

“Do you?” Baekhyun can’t help but ask, yet he moves closer to Yixing, just because.

Yixing hums. “Maybe not yet. But I definitely… I see this—I see _us_ going somewhere. Maybe. If you want?”

Baekhyun lets Yixing’s words hang between them before he replies, but he doesn’t bother hiding the smile pulling at his lips. He looks down at the arm Yixing still has around him, and reaches out, tracing his fingertips from Yixing’s elbow to his hand, before intertwining their fingers. The warmth that spreads through him is unbelievable.

“Of course I want that,” says Baekhyun, tone low and playful but oh so honest. “Who will agree to kiss you _and_ help you with your songs _and_ be as adorable and loving as I am if not me?”

“You have a point.” Yixing, ever so affectionate as Baekhyun has quickly learned, leaves another peck against Baekhyun’s warm skin. “But if you need to meet your friends, by all means…”

“I’ll text them. Wanna tag along? We’ll probably grab coffee soon, or something.”

Yixing shakes his head, his hair tickling Baekhyun’s side. “I have to head to Yifan’s. Show tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right.” They did spend over four hours practicing, the night before, after all.

Yixing sighs. “You should come by, sometime.”

Baekhyun turns to face Yixing, detailing how his hair falls around his face and over the pillow, how his eyes are half-closed but still are bright enough to pull Baekhyun in.  His skin is glowing under the midday sun, and though all of this remains fairly new—so, so new—his voice and the way it rings and the stories it has told Baekhyun constitute the familiar anchor that makes him smile, even more than the sight offering itself before him. “I might just come by tonight.”

When Yixing smiles and dimples, Baekhyun pokes it with his pinky, just because he can. “Don’t do that. I won’t be able to focus.”

“So you’d rather I surprise you?”

“Maybe. Dunno. Let me know next time and give me a while to think about it.”

 _Next time_. _Relationship_. All these promises are making Baekhyun’s head spin.

Then, Yixing turns away and stretches, his skin pulling tight around his muscles and glowing under the sun. And then, he steals a look towards Baekhyun and asks, “Shower with me?”

“If you’re up for more than just a shower, of course,” Baekhyun teases, and Yixing shoves him away half-heartedly with a groan and a smile.

Hours later, he’s seated across Minseok and Jongdae at their favourite coffee shop only blocks away from Minseok’s place, and Baekhyun tries to ignore the pointed stares they give him.

It’s not working.

“You have something on your neck.”

“Minseok-hyung, I think that’s a hickey—”

“I _know_ , Jongdae.”

“Can you guys stop talking like I’m not right here in front of you?” Baekhyun pleads. He brings up his drink to his lips, taking tiny, tiny sips like he usually does, and tries not to blush at the way Yixing had ruffled his hair at the sight of him doing exactly that, earlier that morning.

Damn it.

“You’re all marked up and now you’re blushing,” Jongdae notes, deadpan. Baekhyun curses himself inwardly again. “You ought me some sort of explanation. Last time I spoke to you was not even twenty-four hours ago, and you were pining over your neighbor you haven’t even _met_ yet—”

“Right, about that—” he starts, smacking his lips together. Okay, this is it—

“Wait!” Minseok cuts, and Jongdae throws him a look that seems to say, _God damn it hyung he was about to say it!_

Baekhyun ignores it promptly. Instead, he raises his eyebrows. “Um, yes?”

“If you’re about to reveal something potentially life-changing then I just want to say, um,” Minseok pauses, and then, after bracing his shoulders with a quick inhale, “yeah, me too. Me too. So. Carry on.”

“Oh my _God_ , hyung—” Jongdae groans, hiding his face behind his hands only to turn back at Minseok with an incredulous stare.

Baekhyun looks between them, between the quick succession of _looks_ they give each other, and he’s suddenly reminded of the fact that Jongdae had called their best friend his _wife_ , just the day before. Are they… “Is everything… I mean, is there something I should know?”

“You first, though,” Minseok insists, and it takes a moment for Baekhyun to remember that yes, right, he was about to kind of… tell them everything.

“I mean, it’s not a big deal, I just,” Baekhyun starts, then amends his words, because, well. “Actually it might be a medium deal. Sort of. I, um.” Inhale, exhale—and, here we go. “I met Yixing yesterday in the elevator and we made dinner and made out a lot and we fucked around with his guitar—not like, literally; not then anyway—but then this morning we did the literal thing—like, the fucking—I mean _not_ , um—anyway, you get it. So. I guess we’re a thing, now?”

It’s out there, now. It’s out. Baekhyun inhales, exhales, and looks up, ready to face his friends.

Jongdae’s eyes are so wide it’s actually kind of hilarious, while Minseok’s stare is knowing, if not a little impressed. Baekhyun looks back down at his cup of whatever Frappuccino he let Jongdae order for him, and takes another tiny sip from it.

“You did all of that in under twenty-four hours?” Jongdae creaks out, sounding way more offended than he has any right to. “You’re out there getting men to fall in love with you in less than a day while it took me _months_ to get Minseok-hyung to ask me out!”

Baekhyun snorts, before he realizes what exactly Jongdae has just said, and once it registers— “ _Wait, what?_ ”

Are Jongdae and Minseok—oh _now_ it makes sense—but isn’t Minseok—

“God damn it, Jongdae, I said _I_ would tell him!” Minseok whines, punching Jongdae on the shoulder, who recoils and grimaces—but now that Baekhyun stares, _really_ stares, he catches the shadow of Minseok’s hand going back to where it was, apparently resting on Jongdae’s _thigh_ under the table, and—

“How long has this been going on for?” Baekhyun asks, voice a little high-pitched, and he’s totally not shocked at all, except maybe he is.

Jongdae has the decency to look sheepish, when he answers, “About a week, now? I mean, it wasn’t exactly clear for neither of us, so…”

A _week_. How much has Baekhyun missed in the past month? “So you’re really not straight, then?” Baekhyun turns to Minseok, who shrugs.

“Nope,” he says. “I guess I always knew, really. Just never thought it was relevant to make a big deal out of it.”

“But you dated Taeyeon-noona for _two years!_ ” Baekhyun can’t help but shriek, and he sees Jongdae roll his eyes in the corner of his view.

“He’s bi, you idiot,” Jongdae tuts. “Not that it matters, again. Don’t be ridiculous, Baekhyunnie.”

“And I still wouldn’t take you up on your kissing offer, by the way, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Minseok adds, but it’s said with a corner smile and a wink, and Baekhyun huffs at him, though a smile of his own is pulling at his lips.

“Wait— _what_ kissing offer?” Jongdae asks too loudly for the small café they’re at, prompting a groan from Minseok—his _boyfriend_ , Baekhyun realizes with a start—and a laugh from Baekhyun, and they all fall back easily into their familiar banter.

When, later, they’re about to leave for the evening, Minseok catches his wrist, holding him back while Jongdae walks out to get his car from where it’s parked a few streets down. “Hey, kid.”

Baekhyun halts and turns to his best friend, eyebrows raised. “Hyung?”

Minseok smiles, softly, knowingly. “How’s Yixing, then?”

This time, Baekhyun doesn’t feel shy under Minseok’s gaze, even with the heat rising in his cheeks. “Lovely. He’s—he’s really great, hyung. Great kisser, too. I’m almost not bummed you didn’t agree to kiss me, even,” he adds, jostling Minseok’s shoulder.

Minseok snorts, but his tone is serious when he says, “Not taking things too fast, you think?”

Baekhyun bites his lip. There comes this question again, but it’s asked without being reproachful—just curious, inquiring. Minseok is truly just looking out for him. “How corny would it sound if I said I feel like I’ve known him all my life? I mean, we kind of started talking a long time ago, so…”

The scoff that answers Baekhyun dissipates the tiny pinpricks of nervousness which settled in his guts. “Disgustingly corny. Only you would fall in love with your faceless singer-neighbor and actually make it work,” is what Minseok settles on muttering, but the gentle squeeze he gives Baekhyun’s wrist also says, “ _you’re fine, Baekhyun. You’re more than fine_.”

Baekhyun smiles, decides he’s right.

 

***

**coda**

 

From this high up, the sun seems to beat down on their backs with more strength than it would, down there in the streets.

Mid-July also offers a sun often not very incline on being gentle, and Baekhyun squints at it, like it’ll do anything to tone down the rays hitting at his skin relentlessly. Nevertheless, he lets the warmth envelop him, settling under the low shadow of the makeshift parasol Yixing had brought up with him this morning.

Next to him, Yixing is jotting down words in a silly Hello Kitty journal Baekhyun had bought him as a joke about three months ago, though Baekhyun can’t recall the occasion for it. Yixing had still seemed utterly pleased at the gesture, promising he’d write his song ideas and other nothings in it, cute kitten patterns be damned—which then prompted Baekhyun to remind Yixing he had yet to sing one of his own creations to him.

“Maybe I’ll write a song for you in this, hey,” Yixing had winked, and Baekhyun still hopes.

He has a shift at the library in a few hours, but for now, under the early afternoon sun, Baekhyun spends his time staring at Yixing, at the way the sun makes his hair look a little more brown and gold despite its natural black colour, or how the bright sunrays hitting at his eyes make him frown slightly, accentuating the sharp edges of his face. The focused look he has on his face is even more beautiful like this, with the sun playing games across his skin.

They picked up this habit of spending their summer afternoons on the rooftop of their shared apartment building after a first night, in June, on an evening where Yixing had blabbered something about missing the stars and Baekhyun decided to take him to them. “It’s as good as it gets,” he had told him, letting go of his hand once they reached the top, but Yixing had only grabbed it again to squeeze it gently, not once letting go.

Baekhyun turns on his seat, smiling at the thought. Under the stars or the sun, they’ve now spent more hours up here than they can count since that first time, and Baekhyun thinks of it as a new little rendezvous habit they’ve set up—one that’s much more different from the one where they had an entire wall between them, shutting them off in their worlds that normally belonged together.

He’s about to doze off when suddenly, he hears Yixing scramble for something next to him, jolting him awake.

“What’s up?” Baekhyun says, slightly alarmed, but Yixing doesn’t answer—he only sits up, reaching for his guitar with one hand and his phone with another, his thumb flying over the screen before he puts it down, screen up and still lit up.

Baekhyun leans over. The recording app is open and working, and Baekhyun opens his mouth to ask what’s going on before stopping himself.

He looks up, watches the frantic yet excited look written all over Yixing’s features as he settles on the ground of the rooftop, towel under him and guitar on his lap. Then, he starts plucking at his guitar, and Baekhyun is mesmerized.

The song Yixing starts playing is soft, slow, intimate. Baekhyun is swayed by the notes immediately, falling silent and opting to simply watch Yixing, even as the latter closes his eyes. The guitar plays low, soft, delicate. Everything about this screams _soft_ —or rather, murmurs, because it’s so serene, so…

And then, Yixing starts singing.

His voice carries low, so, so soft Baekhyun can barely hear it over the guitar—but he does, and he smiles instantly. This voice, he’s known for so long, has learned by heart lifetimes ago, lulling him to sleep and carrying stories and feelings in a way nothing else could to Baekhyun. Right now, it’s somewhere between singing and whispering, sometimes going higher and sounding clearer, sometimes just murmuring, a secret between him and his guitar—and, maybe, hopefully, Baekhyun.

But as beautiful as Yixing’s voice is, as lovely as the guitar sounds, it’s the words that take Baekhyun the most by surprise—words detailing a story he’s never heard in the songs Yixing sings before. It’s a story he recognizes, a story he _knows_ , and suddenly, Baekhyun feels the shadow of something akin to flames burning in his gut, calm in their blaze but there nonetheless.

Baekhyun closes his eyes, listens. He’s taken back to a night, in his room with a mysterious voice behind his wall startling him. Things have changed since then, but maybe, in a way, they haven’t, not that much. That’s what Yixing sings about, in a way that’s much more beautiful and abstract than Baekhyun could ever put it, but it’s something he understands wholly nonetheless.

When Yixing finishes, it’s in flourish, just as softly and lovingly as he had started. Baekhyun opens his eyes, only moments before Yixing does, too—catching the way his eyelids flutter as he seemingly awakens from the music he’s just poured out. Baekhyun smiles, and Yixing returns it, albeit a little dazed in his motions.

Yixing reaches out for his phone, turning off the recording device. Silence takes over for a few minutes, with only the low roar of cars low under them disturbing the peace.

Then, Yixing speaks. “Oh my God, Baekhyun.”

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think I just wrote a song.”

It’s said with so much awe, and so much gratitude, Baekhyun can’t help the little hiccup he lets out along with the smile that blooms on his face. “You did?”

“I did, yeah.” Yixing turns to him, wide grin blinding and so, so happy. His eyes are quick all over Baekhyun’s face, before they stop to stare at him directly, softening instantly, and Baekhyun melts. “For you, I did.”

_Maybe I’ll write a song for you in this, hey._

He really did, is the thing—and just like that, Baekhyun falls in love with Yixing, for the first or the second time, maybe.


End file.
